The Daily Life of Carly Shay
by SugoiKawaiiLoliDesu
Summary: Carly slowly becomes abnormally obsessive, gradually losing friends, shutting herself away from reality.
1. Chapter 1

It was another sleepless night for Carly.

She tossed and turned in bed, frustrated, trying to shut off her mind. But it was hopeless. The clock glowed 3:00 am.

With a sigh, she threw off the covers and staggered to her bathroom, trying to be quiet so as not to wake up her brother, Spencer. Third night in a row like this, and this time she wouldn't win her private battle.

Washing her face in the sink, she looked up and into the mirror. Her large soft eyes were red and puffy. Her hands trembled as she leaned on the sink, studying her reflection. Some girls can be described as sexy or hot, or cute. She had the looks of an angel, just glowing with pure innocence. Big, soft brown eyes, and a smooth, childlike face, pale and soft like melting snow. She had turned down offers for modelling contracts. Some of her classmates and friends teased her about how innocent, sweet and harmless she appeared, half-jealous of her beauty.

She looked in the mirror and didn't see any of that. She wondered how shocked people would be if they only knew what went on in her teenage head twenty-four hours a day and night. She kept hearing about how this was a part of becoming a woman, her body going through changes, hormones and such, that it's all a natural part of being a teenager. But lately, at 17, she was going through what could only be called a second puberty. And she had serious doubts that it had much to do with becoming a woman, so much as becoming something a little more than that.

Leaning forward against the sink, she realized her breasts felt funny. They felt unusually heavy. She examined them with her hands, noted that they felt tender, sore. She sighed again, wondering when it would end. She had been a B cup all this time; several months ago she went through what her doctors dismissed as a mere growth spurt, and they began growing again. Now she was a DD at least. She had to throw away all her old bras and buy new ones. The fresh male attention her chest brought her only made it more intolerable. She dressed even more modestly now but there's not a lot you can do with a body like this one, she soon found out. At 5 foot 2, she was very short and the rest of her body was frail and thin, making those breasts look even more ridiculous, almost cartoonishly huge, like she was a 12 year old with huge water-balloons under her shirt.

She took off her large, loose T shirt and for not the first time in the last few months, looked at her body in the mirror and didn't recognize it. Yet again she was stunned at how big the damn things were. It was like God had played a cruel prank on her – and this wouldn't be the first one at that. Sighing, the face of the water-balloon-boobed child in the mirror looked like she was going to cry.

She stepped back so she could look at her body better, jiggling breasts and all. Her loose shorts rippled with a subtle bulge as she squirmed with discomfort. She pushed her shorts down until they slid past her bubble butt and just dropped to the floor on their own.

And there it was. It kept her awake all night long, tormented her all day, distracted her almost every waking moment. The monster in her panties. Although she had to switch to shorts recently.

There was a bandage wrapped around her left thigh, perhaps too tight. As she pulled at it to untie it, it hurt her even more, confirming she had tied it too tight. It quickly unlooped and dropped down her leg, revealing a thick trunk of skin and flesh hanging loose between her thighs.

When Carly was born everyone thought she was a boy; however a careful doctor felt something was amiss, and since her parents were rich enough to pay for the best, a battery of tests later it was declared she was intersex when she was barely a year old. Her parents raised her female.

Until she hit puberty ("her first puberty," as she called it now), it wasn't much of a problem. Together with her parents and doctors, she quickly learned to adapt to owning a teenage penis, hiding it, tucking it away, wearing the right clothes, going through life as a normal teenage girl. She figured the worst was over and now it was just a matter of getting used to living this way.

When she was 17 a whole new hell broke loose. Her breasts ballooned to monstrous size, and more worryingly, so did her penis. And her sex drive, which until now had been nothing to really worry about.

But now she had to strap her cock to her leg at all times. It was truly a monster. Even when completely limp and soft (which wasn't often), it was still a staggering 7 inches long, nearly 3 inches thick; when erect, well, Carly was too scared to measure it, but she knew it was still growing. Her testicles followed suit, and were always painfully full, plump and heavy. If it weren't for her somewhat wide hips she'd never be able to bring her knees together. Her penis terrified her. All it did was throb and throb and drive her insane with monstrous, insatiable lust she didn't want.

At school she wore loose, flowing full length skirts or the loosest, baggiest, heaviest jeans she could find, and grit her teeth with the torment it brought. All day long it throbbed and ached, filling her head with filth and lust. If it weren't for her team of doctors that had been studying and examining her all her life, and her parents being so liberal and understanding, not to mention notably rich, by now she would have had an "accident" at school and be discovered to own a massive penis all this time.

Her team of highly paid doctors were baffled, running test after test, and she had to meet them up to three times a week now. The only thing they knew for sure is that she was the picture of perfect health as far as diseases and disorders went; she wasn't in danger as such. Her hormones were raging but it seemed to have little impact on her health. Also, what exactly is normal for someone like her, was a question of debate.

The only thing that seemed to help was masturbation, which she never did before until recently, and that too, it didn't help much. She hated doing it, feeling like a huge pervert, and it felt awkward, sick and dirty.

As she showered, soothing her sore flesh, her penis stood half-erect, throbbing and driving her insane. She just gritted her teeth and did what she always did: focus her mind on other things and ignore it with every ounce of will power.

Here she was now, standing in front of her full-length mirror in her bedroom after a scalding hot shower, which seemed to ease her sore flesh somewhat. She dropped the towel and turned on a nearby lamp, her naked body aglow and still sparkling with dripping water.

She caressed her enormous, heavy breasts, so incredibly soft and sensitive, no longer sore. Her nipples instantly hardened to swollen little pink nubs. After that hot shower, rubbing them seemed to soothe the flesh. She began to wonder if the same would work for that monster hanging between her thighs like a third leg. She also wondered how something she had for her whole life could suddenly turn into something so alien, so bizarre, gross and intriguing all at once on such short notice. Was this what all guys went through? She instantly fell sorry for all of them.

A new train of thought set in motion in her mind. Perhaps she was going about this all wrong. Perhaps this wasn't something to fight, but to manage, and not be ashamed of. After all, everyone has a sex drive, right? It's natural and whatnot. Slowly, curiosity dominated. It was her own body after all. A team of brilliant doctors had a hard time figuring it out. She might as well do some learning, exploring. Hiding from this problem and trying to pretend her penis didn't exist? This was clearly not working.

She checked that her door was locked. Then she quietly dragged the chair from her desk and placed it against the full length mirror. She turned the table lamp so it focused light onto the seat, and she sat down right in front of the mirror, against the wall, so close that her knees touched the mirror's rim.

It was time to explore this problem, learn more about her body. Still, her heart pounded, and she was tense.

She sat back in her chair, the lamp focusing its warm bright light into her lap, from her breasts to her knees, and she examined her reflection, really looking at her own naked body, seemingly for the first time. Her nervousness was evaporating; this felt more and more "right."

She noticed her breathing was tense; she looked afraid, nervous, brimming with anticipation of the unknown. Her delicate hands reached down and timidly touched the big, fleshy cock as it lay between her open thighs like the trunk of an elephant, lying on the seat between her open thighs like a fat sleeping snake. It seemed to get more and more sensitive every day.

She scooped her slender fingers under the warm flesh and raised up her penis in her hand. Even flaccid, it was still thick enough that her hand disappeared under it, with surprising weight to it.

She then noticed the imprint of the bandage on the skin; it looked sore and dry. She realized most guys probably didn't go around strapping their cocks to their thigh; no wonder she was so uncomfortable. She reached over to her handbag on the desk next to her, and fished out a bottle of moisturizing oil. Maybe this would help? She squirted some on her cock, then on both her hands, and then got to work massaging it in. A very short while afterwards, it happened.

Looking back it was hilarious that she didn't realize this would be the result; it should have been obvious. But she was so new to it all of course.

Gleaming with oil, the flesh in her hands began throbbing as though possessed, each throb phenomenally pleasurable and more so than the one before. It woke up. The flesh surged, growing, growing, rising up, changing. Carly's face in the mirror went wide-eyed, shocked, cheeks flushed red. So this was an erection, the thing that would drive her mad at school while surrounded by all those hot teenage guys and nubile, cute teenage girls and even some teachers. She realized she had not even examined it properly, spending so much energy ignoring it that she never even watched it get erect. It looked like it had transformed into something else.

Well, it was time to understand this better, she thought. Enough of being an ostrich with my head in the sand.

The oil and massaging felt very, very good, so she figured she'd keep going. As her hands started caressing all that flesh, the wet sounds filling the dead-quiet room, her body coursed with so much pleasure it literally took her breath away. This thing got incredibly hard in her hands, like bone. Oh, so that's why they call it a boner, she thought to herself. Duh.

She squirmed and writhed in the chair, yet unable to stop playing with her cock like this. Her eyes widened as her cock kept growing. In the back of her mind she was worried it would just keep growing and keep growing, get bigger than her body, and keep going until it destroyed the house and the neighborhood and everything else. It didn't, but soon it was amazingly rock-hard, throbbing, standing angry rigid and upright all by itself even when she let it go.

She wrapped her fingers, both hands, around this monstrous missile standing up from her lap in front of her, gleaming with a sheen of oil. She poured a generous amount of oil to add to it. Her hands were slick. Slowly she began stroking it, her hands both together caressing the entire length of this giant shaft. As she played with it the pleasure was incredible, excruciating, almost unbearable. She bit her lip hard to prevent moaning too loud; she realized she was panting, breasts rising and falling. Her cock felt like it would literally explode with pleasure, it was that amazing. It took her breath away, made her head spin, and a soft, girly whimper escaped her throat.

When it would get too intense she would stop, and as she would try to catch her breath, she would examine her erect cock, eyes wide with wonder, beholding it as it throbbed powerfully in her little hands. She looked up at the mirror: it was the most bizarre picture. She was so feminine and sweet and achingly beautiful, and in her hands was this big giant cock, standing straight up to attention, shiny and oiled and angry. Such contrast.

And it was so dirty, too, her sitting completely naked in this chair watching herself masturbate. But tonight was different, in that while she felt dirty, for the first time she realized that maybe it wasn't a bad thing. It felt so, so, so very good; and seemed to add a delicious thrill to it. Until now she had only clumsily masturbated in bed, under the sheets, in the dark, and hated every minute of it, not really knowing what she was doing. But this was completely different. It felt dirty but wonderful, amazing, intense. No wonder guys are so horny if this is what it's really like.

And it felt so, so beautiful. Carly dropped her head back, shut her eyes, and decided to slow down. She pleasured herself slowly, patiently. She bit her lip, whimpering softly, her breathing harsh and ragged. She let her imagination go wild, exploring filthy, dirty, disgusting but wonderful sexual fantasies.

She imagined making sweet love to her best friend in her friend's bed. She imagined taking on several guys from the football team at the same time, in their locker room, on all fours like a pornstar, taking it from both ends. Centre of attention. She imagined a teacher she had a crush on. She imagined her best friend and her best friend's mother together taking turns to suck her cock, their mouths barely fitting it in.

She felt guilty for thinking such filth about people she loved and knew and cared about, as though it was a violation, as though she should ask for permission first; but at the same time, oh god it felt so fucking good she just couldn't stop. It felt like she was drowning, sinking deeper and deeper into a bottomless ocean of lust, all in her head.

Drenched in sweat and overheated, Carly writhed and squirmed in delicious agony, sighing and moaning softly, one hand alternating between her cock and her nipples, the other pumping away at her throbbing, aching, rock-hard erection, faster and faster. She couldn't stand it anymore.

At this point she suddenly realized she had never actually seen what happens when she would orgasm. She knew it left a mess later, but again, it was always under the covers into a hand towel.

Well, it's time I explored this too, she thought to herself, and sat up in her chair, scooting right up against the wall and the mirror, sat at the very edge of her chair so her plump testicles hung past the edge, her rigid, aching cock standing up free and unsupported, and she watched her reflection right up close. Slowly, she started pumping her cock. She watched herself stroke it with both hands, her face determined and dark, her breathing heavy and rapid, skin glistening with sweat, her huge heavy breasts trembling about.

Carly watched herself masturbate shamelessly, delirious with the wrongness of it and excited by it at once, her brain fried with pleasure. She watched the beautiful little pervert in the mirror squirm in agony, drunk with lust, sweating hard as she pumped away at her huge erection with both her tiny little hands.

She knew it was close. The pleasure was even more unbearable now. She wondered what would happen. The room filled with the wet, slapping sounds of her oiled hands pumping her cock at a furious speed, and her ragged breathing and occasional whimpering.

It was too much. She felt like she would literally explode. She let go, and each hand grabbed an armrest on either side of her. She forced her eyes open and tried to stay focused on the girl in the mirror.

Carly yelped. Her body went completely rigid and taut, like an elastic band stretched to its limit and about to snap. She felt like every ounce of strength was being burned keeping her from exploding like a bomb and she wasn't sure why. The girl in the mirror looked tortured, her face twisted in what looked like pain; her body trembled like a leaf. Even then, the girl's face was so smooth and soft and beautiful, even while panicking in the throes of pleasure as she looked back at her, eyes locked on hers, beautiful, soft, pleading, as if in agony.

And then with a splat, her face disappeared beneath a horizontal arc of white slime, like egg white, as if shot out of a water gun. Carly whimpered in release, her entire body quaking violently despite her best efforts to control it. She looked down and everything seemed to go in slow motion: She watched her cock seem to flex like a mighty muscle, clenching up, and then explosively releasing, shooting a ribbon of milky fluid with excruciating pleasure and immense pressure. It splattered across the mirror, a little lower than the first glob, and it was thick and sticky enough to just stay there.

Before she could make sense of it, Carly's body convulsed so violently she was thrown back into the chair. She bit her lip hard to prevent herself from screaming. Her hands gripped the armrests so hard she was sure she would tear them right off. She looked down and saw her cock, now upright, pointing to the ceiling, and it seemed to flex and convulse violently and powerfully.

Carly sat back, completely helpless, watching her penis squirt and stop, squirt and stop white goo pretty much everywhere. It felt like her entire body was being electrocuted with more pleasure than a human being should ever handle. It was all she could do to gnash her teeth and try not to wake up the neighborhood with the screams she managed to hold in with all her might.

Her cock just spurted and gushed, squirting long fountains of milky white goo all over herself. It was everywhere. She couldn't believe how much it was, and she couldn't believe anything in the world could possibly feel this good, she had no idea.

She sank into her chair, whimpering and yelping in ecstasy as she spurted and spurted thick cum, her sperm-splattered body quivering and squirming in intense release and relief. Time stopped altogether and the entire universe went far away; it was just her and her wonderful cock in an ocean of pleasure.

She lay there for what felt like an eternity, her body burning with wonderful feelings and sensations, her mind and heart essentially in heaven. Smiling and semi-conscious, Carly lay there, consumed with this immense afterglow.

Eventually she managed to stand up, and got a look at herself in the slimed-up mirror. Her skin was just aglow, radiant, and glistening with sweat; and splattered all over her naked form were ribbons and globs of her thick milky white goo, dribbling down her massive breasts, splattered all over her flat little stomach, and some on her thighs.

Her head spun; she was dizzy. She reluctantly and hastily got to work cleaning up the mirror. As she wiped away her breasts jiggled madly about, and she realized her penis was still half-erect, standing up and aimed forward like a diving board. It was slick with juices, the tip foamy with its goo.

For the first time in her life, she didn't feel grossed out about her penis. After that incredible experience everything looked different now. She realized it wasn't all bad. She could look at it, and at her naked body – all of it – in the mirror and not feel revolted or weird.

Carly needed to get some sleep. She staggered, dazed, into the bathroom and back into the shower. She nearly burned her skin with scalding water as for the first time ever, she started to love being in her skin, this body of hers.

After she hastily dried off, she collapsed back into her bed, sleeping naked for the first time in recent memory, the cool sheets soothing and teasing her sensitive skin, exhausted and invigorated at the same time. Maybe having this cock wasn't going to be so bad after all, she thought, smiling as she drifted off to a deep, peaceful sleep.

It happened one weekend when Spencer, Carly's big brother, stumbled out from her bedroom very late into the night and was sleepily staggering down the hallway towards the stairs, on his way to get a glass of water from the kitchen downstairs.

As he rubbed his eyes and passed Carly's bedroom, He heard a sound. He stopped, suddenly awake, trying to listen for it. He thought she heard it again. He turned around and noticed there was a glow from under Carly's bedroom door. She was awake at this time?

He stood closer to the door, trying to listen. There was another sound, and it was definitely coming from her room. It sounded kind of like a voice, probably Carly's voice, but Spencer couldn't be sure what it was.

Overcome with curiosity, and worried slightly that something could be wrong, Spencer reached out his hand to knock, but stopped. Looking back now he still couldn't remember exactly why he didn't just knock and call out to Carly, asking her if everything was okay. So as quietly as he could, he gripped the doorknob and started turning it very slowly.

Spencer was 30 years old, a grown man but immature for his age, and unusually unintelligent. While most siblings would bicker constantly, Spencer adored Carly, looked up to her, and in a strange way was kind of protective of her, although Carly was almost an adult. Maybe it was the age gap that made them so close. Or perhaps it was that Spencer had long ago figured out that Carly was basically a boy and a girl at the same time. Perhaps inevitably thanks to his unintelligence, Spencer looked it all up online and read it up in books, learning with it all that stuff your parents are supposed to tell you when you hit puberty and whatnot. It upset him to see Carly have such a hard time handling what life dealt her. Truth is, although he didn't show it much, he thought the world of his younger sister. He was secretly fascinated with everything about her, and emulated her without showing it much.

So it shouldn't have been such a shock to see what he saw when she opened Carly's door, but it was shocking nonetheless.

Carly was sitting back in her desk chair, facing the wall to Spencer's left, so she was at right angles to the doorway and never noticed the door opening. She was completely naked, making soft whimpering sounds, her body shaking, her skin shiny and glistening, squirming in her seat as though she was in a lot of pain. Her hands were holding and shaking something in front of her. It looked like some kind of stick, but what – oh my god, Spencer realized, jaw dropping.

That big fat thing in her hands was coming out of her lap. It was her – well, not pee-pee, but what boys have. A penis, Spencer remembered. Only it couldn't be, it was HUGE. Like, impossibly huge. But it couldn't be anything else either.

Spencer had never seen Carly without her pants on. He stood there peeking through the gap in the door, his head spinning with a million feelings at once. He was grossed out but also immensely curious. Spencer had heard from his best friend and from reading up stuff online that older boys and men would play with their pee-pees, and sometimes some older girls would also. It sounded so gross.

But she watched Carly play with her thing, both her hands rubbing it quickly, her big, soft breasts rising and falling rapidly, but she had never seen that look on Carly's face before. She looked so relaxed and happy, almost like she glowed, her eyes fixed on her thing. Her hands didn't stop moving once. Spencer wondered how she wasn't tired by now, she sure looked it, all sweaty and gasping for air.

But something else was happening. Spencer noticed Carly rubbing her big thing faster and faster. Her body seemed to tense up, as though she was in pain and the pain was increasing. Her face tightened and she seemed to be concentrating really hard, looking at her giant pee-pee as her hands rubbed it very fast and very hard. Spencer wasn't sure what was going on.

Carly suddenly made a whimpering sighing noise and Spencer watched, confused and rapt, as she sank back into her chair, reclining, her sweaty, gleaming body wriggling and squirming about as though she was trying to be a snake and slide out of the chair or something.

Then her pee-pee began to squirt and squirt. At first Spencer thought she was peeing onto herself, but he quickly realized that it wasn't like normal peeing, it was starting and stopping. And wait, it didn't even look like pee. More like milk. What the hell? And it seemed to hurt, because Carly squirmed about in obvious agony, making noises. Or maybe it felt nice, Spencer realized, when he saw Carly's face glowing with what could only be happiness and contentment, almost like she's in love or something. Eyes shut, sighing, whimpering softly, head thrown back and gently rolling side to side, then looking down at her squirting big pee-pee.

It looked like she was giving herself a shower in it, because it kept squirting and spraying this milky stuff up into the air and arcing back down onto Carly's naked body. Her boobs were wet from it, so was her belly. And now she knew it wasn't pee, because it was definitely white, or whitish. It didn't really look like milk at all now, more like snot or spit, it was slimy and thick. And her chest and stomach and thighs were kind of covered with it now.

The squirting slowed down, and Spencer watched his sister squirm about in her reclined chair, eyes shut, seemingly very relieved and tired. Tired makes sense, she was drenched in sweat and whatever that white stuff was that she was covered in. She lazily squirmed and stretched as though about to sleep, but she started wiping up all that stuff on her skin with her hands, like it was sunscreen or something, and was happily rubbing it into her skin and boobs and everywhere on her body.

Then, as Spencer watched, Carly's hands went straight back to her big dick thing. Carly let out a deep contented sigh as her hands began to pull at it, playing with it again. Spencer realized her thing could stand straight up all by itself, and it seemed to have shrunk, but was growing back now as she played with it. Spencer's mind asked a million questions, not entirely sure what was going on, but he couldn't stop watching, he couldn't walk away. He just had to see more. It was so weird and strange and gross and cool all at the same time.

Spencer watched as Carly was now rubbing it hard and fast again, just like before. He wondered if the same thing would happen again. He wondered if that white stuff was the same stuff dads make that goes into the mom's stomach to help make a baby. He wondered what it must feel like for Carly when she would make her thing squirt like that.

As Spencer stood at the door and silently watched, mouth dry and heart pounding, Carly's dick began to squirt again. It just squirted and squirted so much of that white stuff, all over Carly; and Carly seemed to really like it.

Spencer then wondered if it was contagious. Because as she watched Carly's thing squirt, he felt like he almost peed himself. His boxers were all wet now, and his own pee-pee tingled like crazy and felt really, really funny.

He suddenly realized what he was doing. What if Carly saw her? So he carefully closed the door back, and scurried back to his bedroom.

He lay in bed in the darkness of hi room, wide awake, unable to sleep. All he could think of was what he saw, like a movie in his head that he couldn't turn off. And he wasn't sure he wanted to turn it off. He wished he could see more. He played the image in her mind over and over, unable to stop thinking of his little sister sitting there naked, squirting all over herself, that big pee-pee.

He wondered why thinking of it made her own pee-pee feel so weird and funny. It was a hot, wet mess between his legs and he wasn't sure why. All he knew was it was probably dirty and wrong to think of things like this or to watch your sister do dirty things to herself naked; but it also felt amazingly, surprisingly wonderfully good and was way too much fun to resist.

Spencer lay in bed wide awake for most of the night thinking of his sister's enormous cock, wondering when he'd get a chance to see it again.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been several months since Carly first discovered how to give herself the release she needed, and learned to accept and even enjoy her body for what it was. Things were going okay enough and life was good – though she suspected a large part of that was the mental and emotional relief that self-pleasure gave her, not just the physical. School was going fine, health wise there was nothing to worry about, and she found she was less stressed out, less frustrated, and slowly starting to enjoy life a little more.

Carly was now masturbating frequently, and enjoying it more and more each time she did it. It no longer bothered her or made her feel gross or guilty or anything like that. Even the thought that she could possibly be addicted to it did not bother her much, she realized. And again, her body was fairly unique – what was normal for a creature like her, anyway? She knew what felt normal to her was surely not normal for most people.

She would usually wake up right around 6, sometimes earlier, and immediately masturbate, sometimes even while half asleep. Sometimes she would cum in bed. Sometimes she'd wake up, holding her enormous throbbing erection against her belly, and scurry into the bathroom. There she would masturbate vigorously in the shower, painting the shower stall glass white with her milky orgasm without a hint of shame. She would spend up to two hours masturbating in the morning. Sometimes she would deliberately wake up earlier so she'd have more time to play with her cock.

She noticed that her semen was thickest and stickiest in the mornings, almost like syrup. Strangely, orgasming in the morning only freshened and woke her up, rather than made her drowsy. It was the best way to start her day.

She'd then rush off to school. Sometimes she'd use her skateboard. A bicycle would be perfect, but with something that huge between her legs, and testicles the size of grapefruits, a bicycle seat might not be optimal. Once at her high school she'd do the whole 'normal teenage girl' routine: schoolwork, rushing to classes, getting hit on by boys, giggling and gossiping with girlfriends, the whole act. She still had to tape her giant cock down to one thigh, but she had figured out how to do it without hurting herself, getting it just tight enough, sitting just right so as to hide it, practiced to perfection. Strangely even with her self-pleasuring, it still took enormous amounts of thought control to keep from popping a boner in class and such. Oh well. Things like swimming and gym and changing in the locker room were all cleverly circumvented by notes from her guardian and her doctor, feigning allergies and whatnot. No one suspected a thing.

She'd come home in the late afternoon, and her brother would be out somewhere – he went out a lot – and if Spencer was hungry she'd cook him something and they'd hang out together before she'd go and get homework done. It was getting harder to stay focused, because invariably her mind would wander and she'd start to daydream and run wonderfully filthy sexual fantasies in her vivid imagination. Her cock would stiffen and throb and drive her wild under her desk.

As evening set in she'd maybe help Spencer with his sculptures or watch some TV with him. More often than not, though, Spencer would be sculpting some stupid sculpture, and Carly would have more homework to get done. Not much of a social life.

But as the hours passed towards night, her anticipation and lust grew unbearable. She learned to turn it into a game; she'd go through her household chores and homework and dinner with her brother being all normal, all the while with the most fun, vile, wonderful, beautiful perverted fantasies playing in her head non-stop, her cock throbbing and aching and harder than steel.

And then finally when it was time for bed (which she always set up as ridiculously early, as early as 7 or 8 p.m.), she'd lock her door, dim her bedroom lights and sit at her desk, either watching internet porn or reading erotica, trying to ignore the enormous, pulsating missile of pure sex and unbearable pleasure throbbing in her lap, standing up like a tree, usually slipping under her loose night-shirt, the frothy, shiny head of the cock often nestling between her big milky breasts. The game was to ignore it as much as possible until she couldn't bear it anymore.

At that point she'd either take a long, luxurious, soapy shower or she'd make love to herself in her large bed. The shower would often just be teasing her cock more and more, loving it, toying with it, but not really giving it what it wants. Once in bed, however, she'd caress herself everywhere but her cock, if possible. Sometimes she'd caress her creamy breasts and pinch her pink, tender nipples and drive herself wild, until she'd snap. That's when she'd finally begin.

Her head propped up with pillows such that she was half-sitting up in bed, her hands would finally seal themselves around her throbbing, aching sex and pump away furiously. Most nights, she'd watch her cock explode into a savage orgasm in a matter of seconds, painting her naked body with long ribbons of thick, gooey white love-juice, covering her from chin to hips.

Time would stand still as she would lie there, gasping for air, destroyed, her body dripping all over with thick splattered semen, hands still gripping her cock tight. And then moaning softly, she'd start slowly stroking it all over again, now taking her own sweet time, having intense, deeply intimate sex with herself. She wouldn't even bother cleaning up just yet, because the semen looked so beautiful gleaming on her burning soft pink skin, so thick and milky and potent with love, so hot.

Some nights she would masturbate for hours, her body and mind rocked by a train of fun, powerful climaxes; other nights, she would masturbate in a state of wonderful sexual agony for long hours, building up slowly to one epic, mindbending, earth-shattering explosion. Either way, she would make love to herself every night for at least three hours at a time, sometimes much more.

She noticed that when she came at night, she would gush more, but it would be thinner, just a little more watery than what it was like when she would come in the mornings. She wondered more and more what it must taste like, and what it would be like to receive a blowjob. Her cock practically screamed for it.

At least once a week, she would have a solo orgy of sorts, indulging shamelessly in depraved, unquenchable self-pleasure until the sun came up, when in a panic she would finally explode, cumming so hard she would sometimes pass out; she learned to plan ahead for such an event because it was so easy for her to be too tired to go to school after all that, having not slept a wink the entire night and starting the day utterly exhausted – happy, but way too exhausted. She tried to restrict this to weekend nights only.

Everything was going great, for once. Figures that one morning, everything got screwed up in an instant.

Spencer was starting to wonder if it was normal for a thirty-year-old to masturbate as much as he did now.

The great thing about Carly's horny little adventures was that Carly was so busy trying to make sure Spencer didn't know what he was up to, that he didn't notice that Spencer was also up to little adventures of his own in his room each night.

Spencer's bedroom was utterly dark except for moonlight from the windows. He was on his back on top of her rumpled sheets, writhing in agony, squirming about, his body glistening with sweat. He was wearing only a T-shirt pulled way up and around his chest, and nothing else. His bony, lithe legs were splayed wide open, wide apart on either side of his such that they almost formed a straight line from one side of the bed to the other. Spencer whimpered softly, squirming, his little hips thrusting rhythmically into the air as both his hands worked as a blur down there.

Oh please, oh please, oh please, Spencer thought, don't go over the edge just yet. Just a little more. I just need a little more time thinking about how beautiful Carly is. Imagining her beautiful body, naked. Imagining her big giant huge boy-pee-pee standing up and squirting sperm juice everywhere.

Ever since Spencer saw Carly masturbate that night, he had been obsessed. He went online, read up everything there was to read up on Carly's particular situation with her being a boy and a girl at the same time; then he grew too desperate to pretend. He unlocked the porn-blocking software Carly installed on his laptop easily, and started watching porn to satiate his curiosity.

But he was quickly disappointed. All those pee-pees were so tiny compared to Carly's majestic thing. The more he hunted, the worse it got. So he just lay in bed every night, replaying the memory of what he saw in his mind.

Carly's beautiful, gigantic, humongous, impossible sized pee-pee. Penis, it was called. He remembered her in that chair, mas-tur-ba-ting, was the word, right? Wow. As though Carly wasn't already the most beautiful girl in the whole world already. Her wonderful, sweet, smart, pretty little sister. Spencer's heart swelled with love and affection. H bit his lip, and rubbed himself harder and faster and firmer down there between his spread legs, making her own little pee-pee feel so good it was going to burst.

Oh, Carly.

Spencer's entire being blossomed into another beautiful, senseless orgasm. He thrashed about hysterically, as though having a fit. He kept rubbing herself down there. It took every ounce of effort not to scream out Carly's name.

Spencer slowly came to, realizing he was completely out of breath, sticky all over with sweat, and the room was spinning. The first thing he thought of was that he wanted to cum once again. But he was busy tomorrow, and it was already past midnight.

He hugged a big pillow, wishing it was Carly, and drifted off to sleep, so very happy that he had such a wonderful, beautiful sister like her, feeling like the luckiest boy in the world.


	3. Chapter 3

Two or three weeks had passed and Spencer masturbated constantly, obsessively, every chance he got, every free minute he could grab. He spent too much time locked in the bathroom, and he slept very little because he'd be thrashing about in bed naked playing with himself, sometimes even until the sun came up.

He was happiest when caressing herself down there between the legs, fingering his little nub, and rubbing the tiny head, going absolutely deliriously mad with pleasure until he drooled and his eyes rolled back in his head and he was about to explode. Then he'd stop, lying there, drenched in sweat, panting for air, waiting for the inferno between his thighs to cool off, and then starting again, denying himself the release so he could build up to an even more intense one.

Other nights, he'd just masturbate on and on, eyes shut, picturing Carly's beautiful face, her amazing body and curves, and let his young mind go filthy with lusty fantasies until he'd cum. He'd imagine Carly masturbating just like he saw her do. Or he'd imagine Carly doing the kinds of things he saw in pornos, having sex with women, with men, with women and men, all sorts of unspeakably dirty things that people are not supposed to even know about, let alone think of.

Then he'd just keep going, and soon he would be getting bombarded with an endless chain of climaxes for hours, each time, thinking about Carly and no one else.

Spencer was starting to get worried that this was not normal. I mean it couldn't be, right? He read online that masturbation was normal and even healthy, but he wondered if there was some kind of limit to how much you should do it.

Also, all she could think about was Carly. He watched pornos online and whatnot but invariably his dirty little mind would always go back to Carly. So he would always end up writhing about in his bed, his skinny, naked body glistening with sweat as she rubbed his soaking wet little thing between his spread open legs with his fingers for hours, wondering how many orgasms it would take to cool it down, all the while imagining Carly's beautiful body, and Carly's giant penis.

Spncer was now a total slave to his tiny little cock. All day long it would ache and tingle madly for attention, soaking his underwear. All night long it would just take over. Her penis was out of control. And Spencer wasn't sure if this was really such a bad thing.

Carly was at her doctor's for another routine check-up. If you could call anything involving Carly's body routine or normal.

Dr. Jamie Gabriel had been Carly's personal physician since she was a baby, and her family doctor since before that. She had helped her through puberty and beyond, and was an especially gifted and intuitive doctor for Carly's particularly unique case. She was disarmingly friendly and charming, making her one of the few people Carly could feel perfectly comfortable around; which was helpful when she had to regularly get naked and get prodded and examined by her and whatnot. Carly considered her more than a doctor, basically a friend, and practically a trusted family member.

It was another physical, and Dr. Gabriel and her were going over the usual figures.

"Okay," Dr. Gabriel said. "Weight: 140 pounds. Although I think we know where the bulk of that weight lies."

As usual, Carly cracked up, giggling and turning bright red in embarrassment. Dr. Gabriel grinned mischievously and continued.

"You're 5 foot 6, your measurements are frankly ridiculous and I'd think you're lying if I didn't take them myself. Bust 39 inches, waist 29 inches, hips 36 inches. At least that's this week, because you're still growing. Next week we'll re-fit you for a bra just to be sure you're still wearing the correct size." She was a real stickler for her being fitted properly. She was concerned that if her breasts got any bigger, it could hurt her back and require reduction surgery. She was also unusually concerned about odd things like her blood pressure.

"It's because of your size," she politely explained. Her penis was so enormous and still growing. Dr. Gabriel explained that usually past the 11 inch mark, a penis would not actually get completely hard when erect because of the amount of blood needed for that size. Yet Carly's monster would get hard as steel. The doctor was worried about her passing out if she had a sustained erection. With Carly who knows what kind of odd side effects and health problems she was at risk for. Carly considered herself lucky to have such a good doctor. Lucky to have such rich parents to afford such a good doctor, she supposed.

"Okay, let's measure you," Dr. Gabriel announced matter-of-factly, and Carly stood up and began undoing her jeans. Once they were around her ankles and the bandage was off her thigh, she saw her doctor's eyebrows rise.

"So you're totally flaccid? Soft? Like, this is it as its smallest?" she asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, why?" Carly asked, shrugging.

"It's definitely gotten bigger since our last checkup three months ago," her doctor frowned, stretching out her measuring tape.

Moments later: "So, okay. Seven inches long when completely flaccid, and about three inches of girth. That's... insane. Most men wish they had those stats when hard."

Carly just shrugged as she sat on the examination table, now completely naked. As far as she was concerned, it was just a major inconvenience and hassle. She wished it were as small as possible. Everyone seemed to be obsessed with size. Men wanted huge dicks, women were jealous of her huge boobs. She couldn't imagine why, knowing what a pain either were to live with, let alone both at once.

"Okay, can you get it hard for me?" Dr. Gabriel requested, totally cold and matter-of-fact. They had done this before, so Carly sighed, lay back, wrapped her fingers around her cock and began stroking it. It was more a medical thing than anything else, it was hardly sexy. Still, it needed little encouragement; in no time she was nursing a massive, throbbing erection.

Moments later: "Jesus."

"What?"

"Well, haven't you noticed? You've clearly grown. It's now about 14 inches long. I'm not sure how your body can even support it, didn't think something like this was physically possible, let alone functional," Dr. Gabriel explained.

"Huh. How about that," Carly shrugged. Again, just a hassle, really. It's not like anyone would appreciate it. She pushed that thought out of her mind.

"Anyway, here, fill this up." Dr. Gabriel handed her a sperm sample cup.

An awkward moment of silence ensued.

"Um... I can't use that," Carly said.

"Why not?"

"It's... too small."

Dr. Gabriel stared at her. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," Carly said timidly. "I've... I'm producing... more than before." She glanced over at her doctor's desk. There was a coffee mug.

"You produce that much in a day?" Dr. Gabriel asked, incredulous.

"Well actually, it's more like... that much per session," Carly admitted.

"How many sessions do you have in a day?"

"Um, well, basically two or three."

"Oh. Okay. Well that's a little on the high end, but okay."

"Well... also..." Carly turned pink. "I usually... cum... more than once."

The doctor's eyebrows went up in her all-too-familiar look. Carly squirmed, embarrassed to admit it.

"When I... you know, do it, I usually cum at least twice or thrice. Sometimes more."

The doctor's eyebrows rose higher.

"I have to," Carly insisted. "If I don't I'll wake up in the middle of the night and... well, have to do it again. So usually, it's about twice or thrice. Sometimes a lot more."

Carly went on to explain that sometimes, she'd masturbate for several hours, constantly ejaculating every half hour or so, over and over. Other times she'd build it up for one big bang, only it would end up being a few of them together at the end. She preferred the latter because a few messes at once in quick succession was easier to clean up than repeated messes. Also, because it made the orgasm much more powerful and intense to build it up like that, but she skipped that bit.

A short while later, Carly was behind the privacy screen facing the wall, sitting on a stool, holding the coffee cup in one hand and massaging her throbbing erection in the other. After a few moments she let out a deep sigh of pleasure, and began whimpering softly as her heart and soul gushed explosively out through her cock and into the cup.

It was amazingly thick and heavy, and she came hard and long, slowly filling up the cup until she was squeezing the last drops of her orgasm out and the cup was almost completely full of pure, hot, syrupy, milky semen. Her hands shaking as she held it, for a strange moment she was almost overcome with the urge to put it to her drooling lips and swallow it down. But she shook it off and passed it to her doctor.

She started to put her clothes back on, listening attentively to her doctor's opinion.

"I'll take a close look at this," Dr. Gabriel said, referring to her enormous load, sealing the cup in sterile latex. "As far as I can tell, you're suffering no major ill-effects. Normally I'd say that indulging this much is unhealthy, but I think in your case it's the responsible thing to do. Your body is producing at a frankly impossible rate, and your hormones and natural urges are probably though the roof to compensate. This could be normal for your kind of body, but who knows, right? So in summary: keep at it for now, and I'll keep checking up on things and see if there's anything to be concerned about. So far, though, I think we're good, you're actually perfectly healthy, and I don't see anything to be worried about."

As Dr. Gabriel closed her file, there was a knock on the door and her front desk receptionist, Jessica, peered in. "Mom," she said, "Call for you on line two. Also, I'm gonna take my lunch break now."

"Fine," Dr. Gabriel said, and answered the phone.

Her daughter was just past Carly's age and worked part time at her mother's practice. They had known each other for most of their lives, same school and all that, but were just acquaintances, not exactly friends. Carly liked her enough. Jessica looked over at Carly, flushed slightly, and said "Hi, Carly," and disappeared back behind the door just as Carly smiled and waved.

Dr. Gabriel was on the phone dealing with a fussy patient. As Carly went to pick up her backpack, she froze in horror.

Her jeans were undone and wide open. In her lap lay her giant penis like a huge fleshy soft third leg between her thighs, the glistening head resting just short of her left knee. She was distracted by talking with her doctor that she hadn't finished doing up her clothes. Shit! Had Jessica seen it? Her mind started racing. She probably hadn't. But what if she had? Would she tell anyone? Unlikely, her mom is my personal physician, wouldn't that get her in huge trouble? Also, she'd been treating me for years. And Jessica had been working at the clinic for years, who's to say she didn't already know from sneaking a peek at her file or something? Who knows?

A sick knot tied up the pit of her stomach.

When she was done, she left the office and made a beeline for the door, face bright red, trying to hold it together. What a disaster.


End file.
